


Space Hooker

by bauble



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauble/pseuds/bauble
Summary: Arthur & Eames role play.Written forInception Bingo. The prompt:Time travel





	Space Hooker

"You want me to play a space hooker," Eames says, slowly.

"Not a space hooker, a hooker who solicits me for sex while we are in the Mars biodome," Arthur says.

"This seems awfully complicated," Eames says. "Why don't you fuck me doggystyle? I can forge someone else if you want."

"I fuck you doggystyle every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday," Arthur says. "We talked about this. We're in a rut."

"But I like it when you rut me," Eames says, bumping his hip against Arthur's.

Arthur can't help but chuckle as he takes Eames' hand. "Babe. It's been seven years of excellent doggystyle. Don't you want to change things up?"

"I guess," Eames says, though he still seems doubtful. 

"And I don't need you to forge anyone else." Arthur touches Eames' jaw. "I want you, if you traded sex for money."

Eames leans in to Arthur's touch. "Should I be a high-priced escort or someone prowling around men's loos?"

"I think I might enjoy the idea of you leaning against the wall, checking out my cock as I take a piss," Arthur says. "Would you get on your knees or bend over in a stall ?"

"I suppose you'll have to find out," Eames replies with a slow, wicked smile.

* * * * *

The dreamscape is an amalgam of various photos of Mars, science fiction movies, and videogames all blended together. The biodome stretching up over the city Arthur created on the surface of Mars looks pretty damn cool, he has to say. The buildings jut up underneath the biodome like conical spikes, speckled with windows and garages for the flying cars zipping through the air.

He wasn't sure what formalwear of the future might be like, so he sticks with a conservatively cut suit in a not so conservative electric blue. It stands out against the red surface of the planet and the silver of the buildings.

He wanders into a fueling station, into a divey diner filled with chattering, vaguely futuristic projections. After ordering himself some coffee and an egg scramble, he heads into the men's restroom.

There's a single projection inside, a blue-haired man in a godawful ugly outfit. Arthur ignores him as he crosses to the urinal, hoping the projection leaves by the time Eames arrives.

Unfortunately, the projection does not leave. In fact, it comes closer and says, "We match, innit?" 

"I suppose we do," Arthur says automatically, until his brain catches up and he realizes who that voice belongs to. When he looks over, Eames is leaning against the wall right above the urinals, observing Arthur's cock with unabashed interest. He has what can only be described as a mane of blue hair, a shade darker than Arthur's suit, and his nose is covered in an assortment of piercings. There's a tattoo down one side of his face and red gloss on those already obscene lips.

Arthur had forgotten; he should never question Eames' commitment to a role.

"I'm Hennessy," Eames says in a sort of garbled mix of Northern English meets American rural accent. It occurs to Arthur, now, the lengths to which Eames went in designing every detail of his character and nearly feels fond—but manages to stop himself. Stay in character.

"I don't think you need to know my name," Arthur replies.

"Mysterious stranger, I see." Hennessy grins, his voice a nearly mocking sing-song. "Want in on some funs?"

He unzips a diagonal closure across his torso and his hideous clothing falls to the floor, leaving nothing but his naked body, taut and exposed in the chilly air. He's tattooed down his neck, to his knuckles and toes, a series of abstract indigo patterns that highlight his defined musculature. And then there are piercings on top of that: his nipples, his belly button, his cock.

Absently, Arthur reaches out to tug at a nipple ring.

"Looking's free, but touching ain't." Hennessy catches Arthur's wrist in a grip painful enough for Arthur to let go reflexively. Hennessy smiles in a more conciliatory manner when Arthur takes a step backwards, rubbing his wrist. "But maybe a little sample to see if you like? I don't usually do this, but you're making me hard."

Hennessy runs a palm slowly down his torso, making a show of it. He gently flicks the ampallang piercing running across the glans of his cock, grinning at Arthur's reaction. Seeming satisfied that he's got Arthur's attention, Hennessy turns and bends over to pick up his discarded clothing, providing a perfect view of his gorgeous round ass. Which is also tattooed.

"Fuck," Arthur murmurs, dick stirring inside his still open trousers.

"Let's," Hennessy says, triumphant as he sets the clothing on the counter. "What ya like?"

"Come here. I want to see your mouth." Hennessy saunters close, and Arthur traces those plush lips with a thumb, which Hennessy bites. "How much for a blowjob?"

Hennessy gives the tip of Arthur's thumb a flick with his tongue before releasing it. "Fancy suit like you can afford it, I'm sure."

"It could be dangerous, not negotiating how you get paid beforehand."

Hennessy backs Arthur up to the wall, powerful arms coming up to box Arthur's head in on either side. "I can take care of me."

"Yeah?" Arthur grabs Hennessy's cock. "I'd like to see that while you're riding my dick."

Hennessy thrusts up, rolling hips that promise how good he's going to feel, later. "Finishing inside me's extra."

"Greedy," Arthur murmurs as he releases Hennessy and watches him slide to the floor.

The way Hennessy sucks cock is—well, it's different than the way Eames does. Arthur shouldn't be surprised, given what he knows about Eames' dedication to a role, but he is, nevertheless. There'd been some fumbling back in the beginning of their relationship, which transitioned into enjoyable exploration of limits and bounds after a few years. Nowadays, Eames blows Arthur confidently, methodically checking the boxes that Arthur likes and usually getting him off in under five minutes.

But this is—luxurious, flirtatious, coy--in a way that Eames hasn't been in years. Hennessy experiments with tiny licks, rough brushes of his tongue, rubbing his face all over Arthur's cock until there's precome smeared across his cheek—all while staring up at Arthur with dark, eager eyes. It's unfamiliar, strange, and so hot Arthur is in danger of nutting prematurely.

Arthur grabs Hennessy by his hair (substantially longer than Eames') and yanks his head back. "Open your mouth. I'm going to get my cock wet and then I'm going to fuck you."

Hennessy's mouth falls open, a moan emanating from his throat that buzzes wonderfully through Arthur's cock. Hennessy's still watching Arthur, but his eyes have gone half-lidded, and one of his hands is stroking his own dick between his legs. Eames always did like it rough, a detached part of Arthur recalls as he pushes his cock mercilessly down Hennessy's throat. Arthur hasn't bothered with rough since Eames moved in, but maybe it's time to reintroduce it into their repertoire.

Arthur drags Hennessy back by the hair—a move which must hurt, but only makes Hennessy whimper and try to duck forward again for more. "That's enough. I'm not paying to get you off."

Hennessy stands, sullenly. He pushes Arthur into an open stall and down on the closed toilet seat. He straddles Arthur, their cocks brushing up against each other with silky heat.

"This how you want it?" Hennessy asks, grinding up against Arthur while his tongue—which is also pierced—licks up Arthur's throat.

"You know it isn't." Arthur squeezes Hennessy's ass.

"Is gonna be tight." Hennessy spits into his hand, slicks up Arthur's dick, and begins to lower himself onto it. Arthur is momentarily shocked into stillness, because they never do it like this: bare with only spit for lube.

It feels fucking amazing, though, like sparklers going off behind Arthur's eyes with every inch Hennessy envelopes. Hennessy bottoms out and Arthur hears a moan, wonders for a confused second if it's his own, and realizes it's Hennessy—stroking his flushed cock, thumb slipping through copious precome.

Arthur puts his arms behind his head, pillowing his head against the toilet tank, and smirks. "Well?"

Hennessy opens his eyes and meets Arthur's gaze. He begins to move, lifting himself up and nearly off Arthur's cock before dropping back down hard enough for them both to groan. Hennessy arches his back, toys with his own nipple rings, lips parted with pleasure.

It's not comfortable—the toilet's unyielding hard lines, Arthur burning up in his clothing, the walls of the stall too narrow—but it's filthy hot, an additional frisson of tension at the possibility of someone walking in on them. They would see Hennessy moving like the professional he is.

"You're going to come from this, aren't you?" Arthur murmurs, sitting up and groaning at how it makes Hennessy sink even deeper. 

"Is what you want, innit?" Hennessy replies, husky. "Watching a whore split open on your big cock, going mad for it."

"God," Arthur groans, eyes falling shut as the words hit him the way only Eames' voice can. "You'd better hurry, because I'm close."

"Hold on." There's the press of familiar lips against Arthur's, and then a breath. It's Eames kissing him now—not Hennessy. "Please, darling. Just a little bit longer."

Arthur takes a shaky breath and nods, clamps down on his rising orgasm because this is Eames, he wants to do this for Eames.

"Yes. Yes," Eames murmurs to himself as he guides one of Arthur's hands to his slick cock, laces their fingers together over it. Arthur shifts his attention away from how amazing Eames feels around his cock to how Eames likes it, how to make him feel good.

Eames is whimpering now, still riding in loose rolls of his hips, close. Arthur slides his free hand down Eames' sweat-soaked back to press a single finger in alongside his cock, feels Eames lose the last of his composure and come.

Eames shudders and clenches around Arthur almost painfully, gasping into Arthur's mouth. He sags for a minute, panting, before leaning back. 

"Worth the watch?" Hennessy asks with a crooked smirk.

"Always," Arthur replies, too softly as he kisses Eames. Lovely, brilliant Eames.

Eames smiles sweetly, almost shyly, as he kisses back. "Let me make you come."

It's Eames and not Hennessy that moves on top of Arthur now, knows all the ways Arthur likes it. It's Eames who knows to whisper, "You feel so good inside me, darling, I love it, I love you—"

Arthur comes with a muffled cry into Eames' shoulder. It feels incredible, deep and raw inside Eames, while Eames brushes kisses all over his face, his ears. He squeezes Eames' body to him tightly, and Eames allows it, indulges him as he always does.

"This was all very nice, but I'll be expecting some pay," Hennessy says.

Arthur laughs and releases him from his grasp. "You already stole my wallet. What more do you want from me?"

Hennessy flicks through the aforementioned wallet he lifted and looks unimpressed. "Not much here."

"Sorry to disappoint. Should have negotiated up front, like I said."

"I could take it out of you some other way."

Arthur shrugs as he peels out of his sweaty, semen-stained clothing. "You're welcome to try."

"I can't believe you're about to bloody stiff me," Eames complains, accent back to normal again. "In a dream, no less."

Arthur runs a finger down Eames' chest to a nipple ring. "Maybe Hennessy could teach me a lesson, hm? A rough one before he fucks me."

"I do hear this piercing feels marvelous against the prostate," Eames says, agreeably. "Not that you'd deserve it."

"Maybe not, but you'll give it to me anyway," Arthur says as he waits for the timer to run out, excited to see his Eames again.

fin


End file.
